End of Our Lives
by neatgraves
Summary: Helena, Gerard, and the rest of the gang are running out of steam, starting to hate the comic-book wonders they have become. They need a way out. These chapters document the final thoughts of the Fabulous Killjoys.
1. Helena - Blink Danger

"You guys coming?" Fun Ghoul yelled from the hangout. I grabbed my ray gun and banged on the door to Jet's room, which he shared with Ghoul. "Jet-Star? You ready?" I asked. Jet opened the door to his room, smiling when he saw me clad in Killjoy "uniform" and pumped up. But the smile didn't reach his eyes. "Are you okay?" I asked this time, looking into his eyes. "I think...I don't know. Blink, I had another nightmare. I don't know what-" "It's okay. Jet, you're okay. Listen..." I trailed off and both of our eyes were drawn to Gee-Party Poison. Over the weeks, I'd gotten the hang of calling Ghoul, Jet, and Kobra by their new names, but I never could get used to calling Gerard Poison. "You guys ready?" Poison asked. We nodded. "Yeah." "Good." He answered with a smile that, like Jet's, didn't even come close to his greenish eyes. "Kobra's waiting outside." "Okay. Go on, Jet. I need to...check something." As Jet walked away, my eyes filled with tears. Slowly but surely, the Killjoys were falling apart. Jet's nightmares and Kobra's cutting, coupled with Ghoul's depressions...and Gerard's change of dress, manner, and character had taken a toll on all of us. I missed Gee, the real Gee: black hair, black makeup, Black Parade. I missed us. Though we were needed as the Killjoys, we were, after all, needed still as the Black Parade leaders. Poison should still be Gerard. Jet should still be Ray. Ghoul and Kobra should be Frank and Mikey. And I should still be Helena.


	2. Mikey - Kobra Kid

I swallowed back bile as I looked at my older brother. What had Gerard—Poison—become? A whole different person, and one we didn't entirely like. And we were all paying the price for this new change of mind. Ghoul grinned recklessly at me, anticipating the fight like he'd always do nowadays; to keep his mind off the depression he was battling within, and to take out his fury at the world for having changed Poison. Jet walked up to me, nodding a greeting but otherwise staying silent. He usually did, even when he was Ray, but now it was a cold silence, the kind that made you feel like nothing and everything had changed at the same time. And Helena—Blink Danger—I heard her in her room sometimes, crying, breaking things at times, but always sobbing horribly. I knew she could tell that this was all bogus, just a scene, to all of us.

Except Poison.

I knew she had loved Gee, once, but as Poison...I saw remorse in her eyes when he drew her close, acting like nothing had changed when really everything had. She loved Gerard, Gee, not flaming-hair Party Poison. Sure, he stood for rebellion, but then didn't the Black Parade? Now she gravitated towards the rest of us...but least of all me. It was never me.

Though I was the one who'd understand. I could make everything better for her.


	3. Ray - Jet Star

I blinked away my night-terrors as we jumped into the midst of the Drac fight. But really, I was tired of it. The only reason I wouldn't drop my gun and raise my arms was for Ghoul, Kobra, and Helena-I mean, Blink. I pretended I didn't feel the tears drying on my face every time I stepped in to a battle and shot my gun. The goddamn gun.

What had Gerard become? I looked ahead of me, to Poison, where he was grinning widely and taking down major Dracs. Who was this person? I looked around me at my other friends; yes, they'd been thinking about it too. I knew-we knew-that the Killjoys were slowly coming apart. Gerard had made the wrong choice in coming here.

But what would it cost him, I wondered. What?

Was the Black Parade too much to ask for?


	4. Frank - Fun Ghoul

I put my gun to a Drac's head and blew his brains out, feeling the adrenaline course through my body and rinse away the depression. The depression that I tried to hide, but knew in my heart everyone could see. The depression because of Gee.

Fucking Party Poison.

Though he seemed totally oblivious to our unhappiness, I remembered him as he once was. I remembered I'm Not Okay. I remembered The Ghost Of You.

I remembered The Black Parade. Welcome to the Black Parade.

And now, what had we become? A bunch of futuristic-badass-superheroes? With long hair and colorful clothes? It made me sick. Where was Our Black Parade? Our Chemical Romance? Where?

All I saw were Killjoys.

And I loved them. Don't misunderstand me; I never stopped loving Gerard, or Helena, or Mikey or Ray. I never stopped loving them-I'd just stopped loving myself, and this idea that we were perfect rebels.

We weren't.


	5. Gerard - Party Poison

I made sure the last Drac had died, and then let my Killjoys wander the battlefield. God, I hated myself. I hated Dracs and ray guns and the Killjoys and all the motherfucking colors. I wanted to dye my hair ink black. I wanted to squeeze into my black jacket-I'm sure it still fit me. I wanted to stand up on a black, skull-adorned float and sing about how it was okay to be imperfect, okay to be different and morbid and weird and grotesque. But I couldn't.

I'd made a terrible mistake coming here.

We were working on a new album, but I couldn't see the thrill in my friends' eyes like it was when the Black Parade was released. I saw, though, their eyes darken when they saw the Killjoy costumes and masks. I saw Helena's eyes tear up when she saw me dye my perfectly-black hair a bright red. I heard Jet scream from nightmares the day I gave them ray guns. I smelled Ghoul's alcohol after I hid my face with a yellow mask. I touched the fresh scabs on Mikey's wrist when he was asleep, after I'd made them choose their new names. And it was fun for me, for a while, to be someone else, to be a superhero from my own comic. But after a while, I realized something was wrong. It wasn't the band. God, I loved each and every one of them.

It was me. Me and my stupid idea to make us colorful and perfect, when really we were happy black and ugly.

And the comics were being bought. The CD was being sold. We couldn't ever erase this idea that we'd become color-clad futuristic heroes.

I closed my eyes and sat down heavily on the sand. We couldn't erase the idea.

But we could...

We could erase ourselves.

 **Uphold The Black Parade.**

 **The Killjoys are dead.**

 **Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge**.


End file.
